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The Recipe Seed Philharmonic
Contributed by
Adam_Gaucher
on
Friday, 13th September 2002 @ 05:57:58 AM in AEST
Topic:
PoemsonBeauty
|
I saw the best minds of my
generation never really develop
in the first place. Ginsberg you
lucky frugal b***ard! (To rub
it in he steals my initials). "Get
off it kid my name was never
Allen," he says, "it's always been
Fred since I can remember."
Great memories as these smear
together like the scent of finger-
paints over lost Salvador's gifts
to mankind. I can only be too
happy to stamp your certificate
on this occasion.
I saw the Harpo of my
comedy team look up from the
rocks beneath the bridge. He is
me, and he's been silent far too
long. The Christs, the Franklins
and the Hitlers, becoming heroes
of their gender. Mary must have
flown to Paris and fell in love with
Baudelaire. "You son," he says,
"are the hybrid of an invention
known as the canoe."
"That's fine and all," I reply "but
the only water I've ever been
able to walk on was frozen."
The perfect ridicule. "A poem
is worth a thousand pictures."
She forgot to mention what
the pictures where of. "There
is an unwritten silence in the
spoken word," I announce to
a house full of silent stars. I
had to develop my own constellation
in expressing the horrors found
in a contemporary's soliloquy.
The simple millions exchange their
greeting cards for sake of meat
and potatoes. I conjure up
a gallery and twenty things in
letters laughing. With the world
of again Lenny Bruce, we dance
and draw chalk lines around our
instruments. He asks, "you dig it
jim?" Someone says, "no," and the
dream is over. Gallery canceled.
Twenty things jumping ship.
Reviving lost moments in various
places with artistically positioned
camera angles, the faces continue
to suffocate their hosts. (Hell, I
know I can't breathe). I lay
my head down to on-coming
traffic. "What are you doing?" ask
their eyes. "Just filming," I respond,
"just filming." Then Thelma Todd
tries to save me with her love,
but I guess that's my fault
because she never returns my calls.
A trinket falls from the ear
to a splash, in the ink of Unknown,
the artist and the poet. Hidden
between the mediocre libel we
emerge one by one to eat cherries
and dry ice. (I figured a simple
definition fared appropriate for
secret prize. You damn well know
where my vote is cast; to the whole
truth of this matter, where nothing
does matter, for it is all just that).
Yes, I've seen the minds of
generations too Kitten. You can
thank my pen for this. And for
Chuck's typewriter I can still call
you names, because for all the
silent stars I love, I've waited.
These are the minds you lucky
suckers. These are the minds,
(worth the pictures, just filming).
Copyright ©
Adam_Gaucher
... [
2002-09-13 05:57:58]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: The Recipe Seed Philharmonic
(User Rating: 1 )
by cryingonmyporch on
Sunday, 12th January 2003 @ 02:05:20 AM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
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interesting but nice. I had to read it a couple of times to grasp it.
Always
Amy |
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